One thousand times I have failed you Folly in that notion of a mustard seed This body wrought of insufficient faith And this heart of pulp seems covered over by Father stone like asphalt redolent from the new smell of tar
Still this nascent string of undivided love moves inside like the coil of a spring brick by brick along the vertebrae of bone
What creature stirs in that eternal cavern? I’ve no sense of justice bitumen - a Red Sea of taillights incessant dragging wastrel in the tortuous Highway
He was a man they said - that Lord - called God in iron wrath who dangled His creations on the tip toe of His Finger Held in utter horror aghast over that Lake of liquid fire - well I never wanted that from start to finish Fear ranks high among the qualities of survival.
Then they - saving grace over the ages called It woman. Oh hold at bay those night terrors the jackal of sermon leaving white pellets of spittle on the mouth corner:
Wait. What fear is there of Mother? Oh Dear - will you speak to Father for me? He always seems to follow your command.